The Magnificent Marriage of the Sinister Ringmaster & Illustrated Lady
by LittleRedHatRocks
Summary: One in a series of stories inspired by the modifiers in the card game "Gloom". This is the tale of how Darius found himself Married Magnificently, while Elissandre was likewise Wondrously Well-Wed - and the events that brought the pair together.
1. Blessed Be the Bride and Groom

**AUTHOR NOTES**

 **Modifiers that influenced this chapter:**

 **Darius Dark - Was Married Magnificently**  
 **Elissandre DeVille - Was Wondrously Well-Wed**  
 **Elias E. Gorr - Stole from a Stiff**

 **In the spirit of the game, I tried to add some alliteration here and there!**

* * *

Standing centre stage in the centre ring, Darius Dark had never been more nervous in his life.

He'd been pursued out of pubs by card players he'd swindled in desperate attempts to win more funds for the Den. He'd had riots – and blood – on his hands when patrons, a bit worse for wear with the drink, had been less than impressed by the unconventional acts in his showcase. And yet, his fear in those moments was dwarfed by what he was feeling now. As he stood there, fixed to the spot and trembling with terror, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder...

Mister Giggles, forever silent, in a gesture of reassurance.

As the two exchanged looks, Darius nodded in understanding, and drew in a deep breath.

Light pierced the tent as the entrance flap was pulled back. A slender, timid figure in an elegant white dress slowly stepped toward the centre ring, her hair and face hidden by a long lace veil. A second smaller woman, no more than a few inches high, sat upon her shoulder and scattered flower petals, making it seem as if the taller maiden was walking in a shower of blossom.

Darius gasped. For many nights, he'd fantasised about this very moment, making his bride as beautiful as his imagination would allow... and yet, she was still more stunning than anything his mind could have conjured.

Elissandre – for she was the woman in white – took her place beside her fiancé, whilst her companion Thumbelisa chose Mister Giggles' shoulder as her next perch, knowing it would get her a good view of the proceedings without interrupting them. As Darius revealed his bride's face, he had to smile when he spotted a second, smaller veil obscuring her nose and mouth – drawing all attention to her bright, beautiful eyes. As for the Den's resident bearded man, he stood not behind the couple, but before them.

It was very hard to get a priest to visit the Den of Deformity, and on the rare occasion one did turn up, it was usually to preach protestingly. Giving Darius and his companions such titles as "Satan's Entertainers" - which they'd seriously considered putting on the billing – highlighted how the holy men weren't exactly fans of their work. Still, Samson, despite a lack of both education and ordination, did have an Irish accent, the ceremony memorised and a leather -bound copy of the dictionary lending him an air of authority, so in many ways, he was as good as the real thing.

Samson nodded to Mister Giggles, who handed over two gold rings. Darius had spent what little money he had left on them, having purchased them from a man in the pub – a gravedigger from Castle Slogar hoping to make a quick profit. Darius had been somewhat concerned about where the seller had acquired them, but his desperation had persuaded him not to ask too many questions.

With the rings resting on the pages defining the words "zealous" to "Zeppelin", Samson began to recite the phrases he had taken great trouble to learn - doing so stiffly and awkwardly at first before slowly relaxing into the role. As Darius and Elissandre exchanged their vows, pledging eternal love for one another – a moment which had both Thumbelisa and Mister Giggles reaching for handkerchiefs, of which the latter had many on a string in his pocket – the ringmaster remembered that bitter-sweet but blessed night that had led to this moment...


	2. Tender Loving Care

**Modifiers that influenced this chapter:**

 **Darius Dark: Was Crippled by Creditors, Was Driven to Drink**

 **In the spirit of the game, I tried to add some alliteration here and there!**

* * *

"Please, gentlemen... just give me a little more time - "

The fierce sting of another backhand slap across his face. The bitter taste of blood in his mouth from his broken nose and burst lips. Darius wriggled and flailed desperately, longing to escape from this terrible situation, but his captors' grasps on his wrists and ankles bound him there like iron chains.

His tormentors, fueled by anger and greed, resumed their relentless strikes: the ringmaster's anguished cries having fallen on deaf ears. Mercy only came when a few stray coins fell from Darius' pockets. The assailants swooped these up like vultures claiming their prey, then threw Darius' broken body onto the cold, cobbled ground before scurrying off into the the night.

Agonizing aches coursed through Darius as he slowly pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he grasped hold of a precious, small silver object, one that thankfully his cruel creditors had been unable to find - a hip flask.

With shaking hands, he unscrewed the cap, and placed the vessel's mouth to his own - chugging the contents hurriedly. The warmth of the liquor flowed down his throat, filled his stomach and spread through the rest of his body, numbing the horrific pain from his wounds.

After a few moments, Darius felt able to get to his feet. Still holding the hip flask in one hand, and using the other to clutched his tattered suit jacket around him for warmth, he staggered along the winding streets, longing to get back to the Den.

* * *

Sat within the circus caravan that the two of them shared, Elissandre and Thumbelisa chatted away merrily in the candlelight, watching the wild rainstorm that had appeared out of nowhere beyond their window.

Elissandre was sat upon her quilted bed in the corner of the caravan - a long black nightdress preserving her modesty in the moonlight as much as her daytime attire did. Thumbelisa, meanwhile, lay within a small shoebox that had become her bed, which rested safely upon the windowsill.

As Elissandre observed the lightning illuminating the pitch-black sky, she spotted a shadowy figure stumbling along through the circus grounds. As she watched it, the figure fell sharply and suddenly onto the grass beneath its feet. Frightened for whoever was out there, Elissandre immediately seized her veils and concealed herself, ignoring Thumbelisa's concerned cries as she dashed out of the caravan into the night.

Within moments, she had reached the poor, anguished creature - who appeared to be a strange hybrid of human, rags, mud and blood. Cradling it in her arms, she softly brushed its damp, long curly locks away from its face, revealing its identity.

"Mr. Dark!"

Darius managed to contort his aching mouth into a small, brief smile. As Elissandre screamed for help, fierce pain completely claimed the ringmaster, and he slowly slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

 _"Did.. did he have an accident?"_

 _"No, Lisa - not with wounds like that."_

 _"Aye. Someone's jumped him, all right. The feckin' bastards."_

 _"Samson! Please!"_

The voices were familiar to Darius, yet dreamlike and distant. As he slowly stirred, he realized that the harsh, stone-like earth beneath his body had been replaced by a soft, downy surface. The wet chill of the rain had been stripped away, and a warm, plush cocoon now enveloped his body.

Opening his eyes, Darius found himself looking directly into someone else's: blue, shining and bright, with the effect only enhanced by the veil covering their owner's nose and mouth. As he saw this wonderful sight, Darius was certain that his heart skipped a beat. Stood behind this figure were three others: a bizarre clown, and a bearded man with a minuscule maiden on his shoulder.

Realizing where he was - in his personal caravan, back at the Den - Darius smiled weakly, then sighed and sank back into the welcoming embrace of his bed. He was safe. He was home. One of the voices spoke again as a tender hand gently brushed his brow.

"Mr. Dark? Can you hear me? What happened to you?"

Darius slowly turned his head to look at Elissandre, who was knelt down beside his bed.

"Oh, I'll be fine," he told her - his voice quiet and weakened, like that of a child. "I just... ran into some old acquaintances."

Darius had sworn to himself long ago that no matter how bad things got, he would never tell the troupe that he'd been forced to borrow money from creditors. Misfits and outcasts as they were, they were the closest thing he had left to a family, and he was willing to shoulder great pains - both emotional and physical - before he'd allow them to come to any harm.

Elissandre decided not to press the issue.

"Well, in any case, you're safe now," she told him in a reassuring tone. "Samson and Mister Giggles carried you in here."

Darius gave a meaningful nod to the two gentlemen. They smiled, grateful for the acknowledgment.

"And I..." Elissandre continued, suddenly embarrassed, "well... I tended to your wounds as best as I could."

Darius suddenly became aware that he'd been stripped down to his undergarments. Various cuts and bruises about his body had been patched up, and bandages were wrapped around his chest and abdomen. Looking around, he spotted his clothes soaking in a washing tub in the corner, while his bedstead acted as a makeshift stand for his top hat.

"Thank you... all of you," Darius told his troupe.

Samson glanced at Thumbelisa, then turned toward Mister Giggles.

"Come on," he told them. "Let's leave Mr. Dark to rest."

Quietly, the three of them headed out of the caravan door. Elissandre got up to follow, but stopped when she felt a gentle tug on her arm. Turning back, she saw that Darius had taken her hand in his own, interlocking his fingers with hers.

"Stay with me," he whispered. "Please."

Elissandre blushed beneath her veil.

"Very well."

For the rest of the night, Elissandre remained by Darius' side. She sat on his bed as they drank tea together - Elissandre raising the cup to his lips. To take his mind off the pain, she chatted to him about happier times: the early days of the carnival, and how the five of them had gone from a group of outcasts united by circumstance to become a close-knit group of dear friends.

When Samson came to check on his employer the next morning, he smiled when he saw that the pair had fallen asleep beside one another: Darius laid under the bedsheets, Elissandre on top of them... with the ringmaster still clutching the hand of the illustrated lady.


	3. A (Somewhat) Jolly Jaunt

**Modifiers that influenced this chapter:**

 **Darius Dark: Found Love on the Lake, Was Trapped on a Train**  
 **Elissandre DeVille: Was Pursued By Poodles, Was Delighted by Ducklings, Had a Tryst on a Train**

 **In the spirit of the game, I tried to add some alliteration here and there!**

* * *

About a week later, Elissandre was sat outside in the morning sunlight - her spare dress laid across her lap as she stitched up a tear, needles and thread on a small wooden stool to her side.

As she sewed away, humming gently, she was interrupted by the sound of someone coughing.

Looking up, she spotted Darius walking towards her. He was limping slightly, and had to use his cane to support himself rather than sheer decoration, but otherwise, he was certainly in a far better state than he had been a few days prior.

The two were alone. Samson was making adjustments to the big top tent, Thumbelisa was still dressing in her caravan, and God only knew where Giggles was... he always had kept himself to himself.

"Good morning, Elissandre," Darius said warmly.

"Hello, Mr. Dark," came the gentle reply. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Yes, thank you. I am much recovered."

Elissandre put her sewing to one side as the ringmaster moved closer, giving him her full attention.

"May I sit down?" he asked. "Walking still exhausts me."

"Of course, sir," she replied - collecting up her needles and reels to offer him the stool, which Darius lowered himself upon slowly with a heavy sigh.

He seemed nervous.

"I... wanted to thank you," he told the modest maiden. "For the kindness you showed me the other night. I... I much enjoyed your company."

"You're welcome," Elissandre replied. "I enjoyed yours too."

A brief silence followed. It weighed heavily on the shoulders of them both, although neither one cared to admit it.

"I... I was wondering if you'd care to... step out with me today?" Darius continued. "There's a beautiful spot we passed whilst were travelling here - a park, beside a lake. We could catch a train there."

Elissandre's eyes widened.

"You - you would have me escort you? In public? A circus freak? Wouldn't you be terribly ashamed?"

"Of what, my dear? Being seen with a beautiful young woman? I daresay the shame would lie with me. I know I am no Adonis!"

Darius laughed light-heartedly, but stopped sharply when he noticed the fear in Elissandre's eyes. This wasn't some elaborate lie she was concocting in order to turn him down politely. Her fright was genuine. Carefully and cautiously, he reached for her hand.

"I've no intention of forcing you," he stated clearly. "Just say no, and nothing more shall be said. But, if I may - I... I would greatly enjoy it if I were able to give you this. A day of delights, to repay you for everything you have done."

Elissandre looked up at Darius. A change in her eyes revealed an otherwise hidden smile, and she grasped his hand tighter in her own.

"I'd be honoured."

* * *

The next few hours were sheer bliss for Elissandre. After walking to the station, staying close to the ringmaster's side, she was able to enjoy the first train ride she'd had in years. She practically rushed on board in order to seize a window seat, and spent the journey staring at the picturesque scenery unfolding before her - her hand forever resting on the glass.

It brought back long-forgotten memories of childhood trips to the seaside - one of the few happy times she could recall from her life before the Den. Her history was a complex one, tinged with tragedy. It was something she had never discussed with Darius, and he had never asked any questions. For that, she was grateful, and she would forever respect him - despite his many failings in his chosen profession.

Darius, happy to see Elissandre's excitement, sat back in his seat contentedly - cherishing an opportunity to rest and relax, his work momentarily forgotten and beyond care.

Neither of them noticed the shadowy figures who followed them at a distance... and who had boarded the same train only a few moments later.

The park was indeed a place of beauty - the vast lawns and gardens elegantly circling the icy blue waters of the lake. After walking through flowerbeds and feeding ducklings some old bread crusts they had brought, the pair sat together side by side close to the lake's edge.

The sun was high in the sky by this time. Darius, sweltering in the summer heat, removed his jacket so that he might lay upon it, pulling his hat down over his eyes as he began to doze. Elissandre, meanwhile, merely pulled her own coat closer around her. True, she was enjoying herself, but she still felt nervous about being around other people - people she didn't know. She dreaded what may happen if her "deformity" was to be revealed for even a second.

However, as she watched the lake waters gently rippling back and forth, and felt the gentle breeze blowing across her face, even she began to feel a bit more at ease. Sighing contentedly, she turned towards her companion.

"Mr. Dark?"

"Hmm?"

"Mr. Dark, I just wanted to say - "

"'Darius.'"

"I'm sorry?"

Grinning, the ringmaster sat up, pushing his hat back onto his head with a smooth swiping gesture.

"Call me "'Darius'", he said softly. "We're not at the Den now, after all. Although you could call me "Darius" there too, if you wished to. I wouldn't mind."

Elissandre was aghast.

"I... I can't call you that!" she stammered.

"Why not, pray? It is my name. And I use yours."

"Indeed, but... well, it would be improper of me. You are my employer."

Saddened, Darius turned his face away - a frown forming on his lips.

"I had rather hoped that you might consider me a friend by now," he muttered.

Seeing Mr. Dark upset concerned Elissandre even more. Immediately - almost instinctively - she reached for his hand, tugging it gently to regain his attention.

"I do, Mr. Dark," she told him. "I promise you - I do."

"Then call me 'Darius'," the ringmaster pleaded. "At least here. Today. Please."

Elissandre blushed. Stifling a anxious giggle, she did as he wished.

"Very well - Darius."

It felt strange to her. Bizarre. Incorrect. And yet, somewhere, in another part of her mind... it was completely right.

Simply being with Elissandre lightened Darius' heart, but hearing her say his name caused it to skip a beat. The recent days he had spent confined to his caravan had given him a great deal of time to contemplate things... but repeatedly, he had found himself recalling that night Elissandre had spent by his side.

It had felt like Heaven. And now he wanted more.

He had always considered her to be beautiful - even with heavy veils and cloaks concealing her face and figure. She was clever and caring, her voice melodic and sirenesque. Seeing her here before him now, happy and calm, with the sunlight illuminating her, confirmed a notion he had long suspected.

He was in love.

Suddenly, his mind was hurled back into the present moment when he realised he had interrupted Elissandre mid-sentence.

"Sorry - what were you going to say?"

"Oh, I... I just wanted to tell you that - "

The rest of her words were replaced by a blood-curling scream as a poodle shot forth from the nearby bushes, plunging its teeth into her thigh. More hellish hounds of a similar ilk followed - snapping at her viciously and tearing her clothing in a frenzy attempt to pierce her flesh.

In the shade of a nearby tree, unseen, one gentleman turned to scold another.

 _"No!_ _Not_ _the broad, ya moron!"_

The terrified Elissandre fled across the grass, lashing out at the poodles and kicking them in her attempt to escape. Darius, outraged by the sight of her suffering, joined in the chase - using his cane to beat the beasts. After a few sharp strikes from both parties, the deadly dogs whimpered and scurried away - leaving Elissandre exhausted and injured.

Upon seeing the crimson blood flowing from her wounds, Elissandre's legs buckled beneath her - leading Darius to dash forward and gently catch her in his arms.

"Please take me home," Elissandre whispered weakly.

Darius nodded. Ignoring the pain that was coarsing through his own body, he helped Elissandre stand by laying her arm across his shoulders, before hobbling slowly back towards the train station.

* * *

The journey back, it seemed, was not going to be as pleasant as the one they'd had on the way there. Upon seeing Elissandre's condition, the train conductor had immediately ushered the pair into a private carriage, placing some bandages into the ringmaster's hands - giving them a safe haven away from prying eyes, where Darius could discover the full extent of the illustrated lady's injuries.

Unfortunate though it was, it was time to repay the favour.

Elissandre, deeply distressed by what had happened, sat in the carriage quietly - her head hung, her eyes downcast towards the floor. Darius was equally silent as he looked at Elissandre's hands and wrists... but soon, he realised that a more thorough examination would need to be done.

"Elissandre?"

His companion turned towards him, wordlessly.

"I... I need you to... to show me your legs."

Whatever colour remained in Elissandre's face flooded away sharply as she considered this shocking notion.

"Please," Darius insisted. "I have to see where you are injured."

She knew he was right. Blinking back tears, Elissandre nodded - and slowly took hold of her skirt, pulling it up gently over her knees.

Darius immediately knelt at Elissandre's feet in order to bandage her wounds... but once that task was done, and he allowed his eyes to wander, he found himself stifling a gasp at what he could now see.

Not being one to ask questions, Darius had never actually known whether or not Elissandre really had tattoos. He had simply chosen to believe her. In his experience, the majority of people who joined freakshows were rather desperate - eager to escape their current situation. Who wouldn't take pity on someone like that? Besides, with his feelings for her growing day by day, it broke Darius' heart to consider the possibility that she had lied to him.

It brought him great relief, then, to learn that she hadn't.

The ink markings gracing Elissandre's legs were like a marvellous tableau - an interlocking tapestry of serpents, flowers, and other fascinating shapes. With childlike amazement and wonder, Darius gently traced the dark lines with his fingertips, marvelling at the masterpiece that had been revealed to him.

Incredible. Was she like this all over? If so, why would she hide something so wonderful? She wasn't "deformed" or "monstrous"... she was utterly exquisite.

Alas, Elissandre mistook his lingering as gawking... an expression of disgust. Her worst fear had been realised. Darius, a man she greatly cared for and respected, would now see her as nothing but a scarred, sullied freak. Trembling, she softly pushed him away from her, quickly lowering her skirt once more.

"Please don't," she whispered, sobbing. "I know how hideous I am."

Darius looked at her, stunned. Resting his hands on her knees, he raised his kneeling form up towards her - bringing his face close to hers.

"No, Elissandre," he replied in hushed tones. "You are more beautiful than I ever imagined."

Then, in one quick movement... her veil was brushed aside... and his lips were on hers.

The sweet ecstasy of this first kiss was quickly shattered by notions of shock and shame. After a few blissful moments, Darius, suddenly aware of what he was doing, immediately pulled away.

"Oh God - Elissandre... I'm sorry - forgive me - "

The lady shushed him gently, placing her finger upon his lips to silence him. Slowly, she removed her veil, tossing it into the corner of the carriage. Smiling, she moved her finger away from Darius' mouth, and replaced it with her own.

Suddenly, in the midst of this passionate union, Darius was thrown backwards across the carriage floor as the train shuddered to a halt. The pair looked around, confused, before hearing the voice of the conductor calling from a neighbouring car.

"Ladies and gentlemen... a tree has fallen on the track ahead of us. I'm afraid we may be here for some time."

Brushing himself off, Darius picked himself up off the floor, and took a seat at Elissandre's side.

"Oh dear," he muttered. "How unfortunate. Whatever are we going to do now?"

In response, Elissandre placed her head on Darius' shoulder - leaning forward slightly to nuzzle and kiss his neck. Groaning, Darius threw his head back and pulled Elissandre close, enfolding her in a loving embrace before returning her kisses with a mischievous grin...

* * *

Soon enough, the track was cleared, and the train was able to go on its way. When it arrived at the station nearest the Den, the conductor was most bemused when he once again saw the top-hatted gentleman and the veiled lady. Clearly, they were in much better spirits than when they had boarded, as they emerged from the carriage laughing and smiling. Their hands were rapidly fastening up buttons and smoothing down clothing. The examination must have been _very_ thorough indeed.

As he approached them to ask them how things were, he would be left scratching his head in puzzlement when the gentleman merely raised his hat to him in greeting, then eagerly pulled his female friend out onto the platform and whisked her away into the sunset: the pair of them giggling like excited children.

As she fled with her companion, the lady's skirt briefly flew up in the breeze, exposing her ankle for a mere moment. The conductor swore he could have spotted a tattoo upon it, and wondered if the the top-hatted gentleman knew about it.

He would never know that yes, the gentleman did... as well as several others besides.


End file.
